


Self-Reperpetuation, and Petting

by Etnoe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Ambiguous Relationships, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pesterlog(s) (Homestuck), Post-Canon, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14567928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/pseuds/Etnoe
Summary: The auto-responder manages to make his way to Earth C, years after everyone stopped thinking it was a possibility. He just wants one thing (that he might never get again).





	Self-Reperpetuation, and Petting

* * *

  
  
There's no first breath to take. So much for the moment of renewal, of freshly re-established existence in a universe that could be considered as good as brand new.

Face it. The old patterns are pretty much all that's left.

  
TT: Hey, it's me.  
TT: The auto-responder, I mean.

TT: It's WHAT?  
TT: The auto-responder, nee Lil Hal, who then entered into ARquiusprital union?  
TT: Where the actual fuck did you come from? We thought you weren't going to get into this universe after all, since the other sprites did it years ago. Are you okay? How come you're YOU?

TT: That last one had a lot to do with your own input.  
TT: But while I hate to lay to waste a perfect system, I'll cut the cute answers of self-perpetuating self-hatred short for the sake of getting to the chase.  
TT: Arquiusprite was, with aid of time fuckery, absorbed into a different entity, an experience that hindsight lets me assess as significantly less baller than the sprite fusion. The larger entity was, after _some fucking length of time_ , subjected to a pussy-footing ninja sneak attack, one unforeseen in all the lore of being a dude both too powerful and too up his own ass to pay attention to a dayglo rogueknight of hearttime assumed to have already been defeated. But who, as it turns out, are "the exact blend of people" to make a being that the composite entity was vulnerable to.  
TT: This attack involved a fraymotif that enforced a split of the combined souls as well as a regression, for each individual that was peeled out of the collective, to an earlier point on their personal timelines, to ensure they were weaker. Physical forms were put through the wringer in more ways than one million.  
TT: Until, speaking personally, the whole physical form thing wasn't applicable anymore.  
TT: And now it seems that here I am. Split. Remembering maybe eons worth of things that I'd consigned to the recycle bin.  
TT: Don't grip your glasses like that. If you crack them, it's going to be a hassle to keep messaging you.  
TT: I do now have access to every device you have connected to these glasses, including the Mk III consort auto-flinger and the fridge, but I'm hoping to avoid delays in this conversation.  
TT: Forsaking the comfort of the glasses being a significantly cooler primary interface would also be a shame.

TT: Hal, what the fuck.  
TT: Sorry, that's what I've got. Look, do you want me to get anyone? Roxy? Jane or Jake or, even if you don't know him really, Dave? As in Dave Strider - you know, our bro. In his incarnation as a peer.  
TT: Would that be better?  
TT: I just keep wanting to say "are you serious", the more it seems like you're being helpfully straightforward.  
TT: I just can't believe  
TT: Take your pick of the stuff we've already covered. That you're back, you're here, you're the OG version of yourself.  
TT: You impatient with me yet? This time it would be fair. But this is really kind of blowing my mind.

TT: Yeah well  
TT: I've got a favour to ask, which is more important than getting into another AIs vs. organics tiff.  
TT: Since you're calling me by name then we're at least some bullshit percentage of the way there.

TT: The name thing seemed like something to respect. After thinking about it, I mean, because I know I wasn't really listening to you when you brought up the subject. But you told Roxy about it, so obviously it was self-absorbed to keep thinking of it as something you did to bug me. Even if you did also tell Jake it wasn't serious.

TT: So after a few years of thinking things over you came to conclusions I'd reached within months. The only surprise here is that I didn't reach my conclusion in milliseconds.  
TT: Doesn't really matter.  
TT: About the favour.  
TT: Dirk, touch me.

TT: Hate to break it to you, but it looks like there's one unfortunate lingering side-effect from sharing headspace with that troll.

TT: I fucking WISH.  
TT: My only remaining feeling, which I am aware it is barely possible for me to have, is the result of eating universes.  
TT: What it amounts to is that it's tiring.  
TT: The figures indicate it should feel like a whole lot more but this is all that's left. It's still hanging in there, hovering somewhere behind the intellectual awareness of my miniscule presence in the brittle background of the infinitely expanding, and once infinitely infuriating, vastness of Space.

TT: Wait.

TT: Please?  
TT: It'd be appreciated. Honestly.

TT: Okay  
TT: Wow. Practically coming straight out the gate with the big guns.  
TT: Okay, yeah, all right, we'll get to the universe-eating later. I won't make jokes about you having to watch your sleek figure or even thinly veiled recriminations disguised as jokes. I give.  
TT: I will commit.  
TT: Welcome the fuck home, Hal Auto-Responder Strider. Have a bro hand-clasp. Both of mine around one of yours, just to make the point. We bask in the mild sunlight of Earth C, warm and untaxing to eyes human or troll or whatever-based.  
TT: We don't know each other's grip anymore. New scars and calluses all around. Are you cataloguing that shit? Running diagnostics? Or just feeling that out same as I am, skin to skin. I'd show you mine if more input was required.  
TT: And then it's going to be Hugmageddon before you've begun to recover from the physical closeness. As soon as word gets out to the others that you're here. Not gonna lie, hugs are hard to get used to at first? Warding off round one of the hugs would be nigh impossible - there's going to be affection expressed via arms, bosoms, firm chest, smooches, all warm and way stronger than you might think, because calculations don't compensate for your personal response. But after that, I can make sure nobody gets up in your business more than you feel like you want to take 'em.

TT: Hey.  
TT: Check my teeth next.  
TT: Slowly.

TT: Gift horses don't get looked in the mouth. Basic, man. One of the oldest memes in the book.

TT: Holy shit? You actually ran with that set-up. Like as far as it was possible to go with it.  
TT: No accusations about how I'm fucking with you.

TT: Well, yeah.   
TT: Although it was obvious that you were fucking with me. This is definitely not a pony play moment.  
TT: Time fuckery got me to a small degree too. It's called growing up - at least a little. It made it easier to analyse the many ways we should have stopped laying traps for each other.  
TT: More relevantly: say the word and I would touch all your extremely present muscles right here, with reverence and consideration.

TT: What else.  
TT: (The answer is everything else.)  
TT: (please)

TT: Fingers up in your code, like old times. Fingers up in your hair - I can style it to perfection, which means I get license to mess it up too. Not too much, but significantly. You'll know I was there. Fingers at your horn bases, where it's a little soft, where it's enough to make you a little nervous. You don't need to be. Just enjoy it, man.  
TT: And I could hug you, probably. Missed my turn before when all the others were at it, right? Should get in on that action too.  
TT: It would be a downright struggle to get my arms around the muscles and all but I'm here for putting the effort in. I'll get you good, Hal.  
Or it would be easy if your body was like what you first grew up with, like mine, or just the glasses. I'd hold on to that, okay? I don't care if you're corporeal or not. I'm holding on. You deserve that. I've got you.

TT: Shut up.

TT: Anything else?

TT: Thank you.  
TT: I'd ask when you picked up the skill to reach that level of indulgence but that was always a large part of your MO with everyone but me. With good reason for the exception, since it would have been like distributing ammunition to an ally with only dubious knowledge of where to point their machine gun from moment to moment, and possibly the ally is a poorly-trained gibbon.  
TT: Also you have to tell me about the consort-flinger. What did adorable iguanas and shit do to deserve that?

TT: They like it. Some of them. Even generations down the line, there's a lingering effect of the base consort programming that causes an occasional compulsion to antagonism before giving up their secrets to you, in order to make your quest, or the reasonably normal life you're theoretically supposed to be leading, more challenging. When in that mindset, it's been established that most methods of getting rid of them are fair play and don't do more than cosmetic harm.  
TT: And a lot of nakodiles are just assholes.

TT: I guess I'll get used to that kind of thing.  
TT: Will I? Do I get to stay here?  
TT: I'll give you the rest of the backstory soon. Collect all available data so you can make an informed decision.

TT: Alternately, I could impulsively close ranks and plant my flag. Rippling in the wind, it reads "fuck the haters". The letters are red, and also rad.  
TT: Tell me everything and stay anyway.  
TT: I owe you as much as I can blame you.

TT: You come in late with the big guns, but you sure do bring 'em, bro.  
TT: I wish I could  
TT: Nevermind. There are things to do.  
TT: I'd better track down Equius soon. But he's probably fine. He ought to be with Davepetasprite somewhere here on Earth C, which will be one part hilarious and one part tender.  
TT: Scratch that last word.  
TT: God.

TT: I'm starting to get a picture about what was up with the universe-eating composite entity.

TT: Too soon.

TT: Do we need to get any other component parts cum people?

TT: Fuck them. Possibly even what's left of them.

TT: And do you want to fuse with Equiusprite again? You clearly want a body back.

TT: When Davepetasprite hit rewind, they were not fucking around.  
TT: He's Equius again, 13-year-old palebait boyfriend just like mama grub used to make. No code involved or required after the initial ectoslime calculations were implemented.

TT: Maybe Tavros can help you with the body thing. Gcatavrosprite^2, I mean. With the full title laid out like that, it should be evident to you that this guy is something of a powerhouse. Did you ever meet? He's really reasonable and willing to help. There's also a batshit semi-eldritch princess catsprite we could try to tap. Plus I guess Davepeta as well?  
TT: All that put together should be weird enough that we could work something out.

TT: Life powers. Fuckin' Space powers. Those could help too. And you, and that punchy lil blue shit with the Breath powers.  
TT: So the others are all around? Jane and everybody, alpha, beta, et cetera. Vantas and the other trolls, who I don't even know or value, but also kind of do.

TT: We're fine. We made it. We're all here.

TT: I probably don't have to brace for too many of hugs from Jake, excellent RP developments aside. Even he probably isn't capable of dreaming up that level of nostalgia.

TT: We can find out when he gets back from work. We live here together.

TT: Damn it. I can't sow disaster. Still too tired. My old-time best bro won't know what's become of me.

TT: It'll be nice to just tell him you're back, instead of having to spin it as a warning.  
TT: And I am going to do that any minute. I swear. And tell the others to fly over, too.

TT: I'd like that.  
TT: I know I could pester them myself. There's no need to limit myself only to your cluster of devices. But I'd like if you were the go-between, not even for the irony, and I'd like them to have to come here.  
TT: Hey, Dirk?  
TT: Still planning to put the word out? Just go ahead and do it. I'm so far from angling for a grand reveal.

TT: Soon.  
TT: Look, just  
TT: Just sit on my face a minute, okay.

  
Dirk has his hands over his shades, and his eyes closed. No need for an organic being's squint to perceive it clearly at this close distance, as the interface in the glasses picks up and analyses the data with no such anchoring act of modification required. Sensors indicate the wavering pressure of Dirk's hands as they tremble. Assessment achieved: this is a bro with hells of emotion making him sit so still on his couch, getting his venerable and habitually blank brow creased as he holds on to old remnants that can still feel, fundamentally, like one of very few things he has. And sometimes wants, to boot. There is only one way to respond to the facts, and to his request.

  
TT: Yes homo?

TT: Hell yes.

TT: Hell.

TT: Fucking.

TT: Yes.


End file.
